


Rebel Diamonds

by codevassie



Series: Stars and Superheroes [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, they've been through a lot of shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-02-25 22:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18711184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codevassie/pseuds/codevassie
Summary: As protectors of Altea, the paladins work to keep order in the chaos of the post-Galra age. This comes with difficulties, though, as faith in Voltron plummets with the addition of their newest member. Trust is a difficult thing for Keith and Lance as they try to sustain their relationship after the shock of secrets, deceit, and through the ever-growing strain within the city and amongst the paladins themselves. Things are a mess, but this is only the beginning of what's to come.





	1. Read My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone and welcome back to those who read ASFOS! This is a sequel to my work 'A Sky Full of Stars' and it'd probably be best if you've read that to understand this one but I'll provide an explanation (it turned out really long) about what happened there below in case you don't want to, as well as for those who need some reminders. Keep in mind that the rating bumped up on the last work so it probably will on this one as well. I'll make sure to warn you guys about it if it does :).  
> Anyway, let's get to it! 
> 
> Previously: Upon meeting, Lance and Keith realized they were soulmates. Both had secrets of their own, though. Lance was the Blue Paladin, Altea's sole protector while the other paladins of Voltron were in other cities or locations unknown and Keith was a new villain to Altea, who was accepted, somehow, as a paladin by the Red Lion. Lance wants to help his friend and fellow paladin, Pidge, find their brother, as well as find their leader and, who he discovers later as Keith's brother, who has recently turned up missing. Little does he know, Shiro is the reason Keith works for the Galra, who has his brother held prisoner and experiments and tortures him when Keith goes against them or fails.
> 
> As Keith and Lance grow closer, Red and Blue go head-to-head as enemies, but Lance was never able to shake the feeling that there may be more to Red than there seems. Shiro is eventually freed, but cannot remember most of his time in captivity and, all the while, his bond with his lion is weak and the Black Lion remains missing.
> 
> Under the threat of harm coming to his soulmate, who Keith nor the Galra realize yet was also the Blue Paladin, Keith continued to work for the Galra. Months into their relationship, Lance discovers Red's true identity. When confronted, Keith runs away but is captured by the Galra who now realize Lance's identity themselves and wish to use Keith against him. With the help of the other paladins and the Red Lion, who leads him to Galra HQ, Lance works to free Keith, but the Red Lion can only take him so far, as the Galra have given Keith a serum that severs soul bonds and, thus, the bond he and Red share between them. In the end, Lance is still able to rescue Keith, just as Lotor, one of the main Galran villains, attempts to kill him.
> 
> With Keith rescued, he and Lance decide to place more trust in one another from now on, to avoid the secrets that led to this in the first place. In the end, it is decided that Keith will become a part of Voltron, an official paladin, and Shiro reveals that he remembers something important from his time locked up in Galra HQ: That was where he met Matt Holt, Pidge's brother and his soulmate.

_“The stars are blazing like rebel diamonds, cut out of the sun…”_

 

**_-Read My Mind, The Killers_ **

 

-/-

 

_Keith’s pen scratched for a bit on his scrap piece of paper. It had a good ink, the pen. That wasn’t the problem. He scratched and scratched, and still could not think of the words he wanted to say._

 

_His message was simple, of course, and he doubted anyone would find it anyway. But he wanted to make it good. After all, these were the last words of this life, going into the next one. He'd be a new Keith after all this._

 

_Keith’s legs swung from his desk chair. He was eleven years old and he was no closer to the growth spurts his peers in school all celebrated than he was to ever finding a place he belonged._

 

_Biting his lip, Keith took out another sheet from his book bag. He had gotten the extra paper from his foster father’s home office and it was obviously one he didn't care for–kept simply because it was still good. It was yellowing from age and had a single fold at one corner, but it was blank and that was good enough._

 

_Keith didn't want to write on it yet. When he started, there would be no turning back and, despite deciding this was for the best, Keith lingered in this life for a little longer. At least, here, he could pretend. Once he wrote this, and buried the thoughts, the dreams, somewhere safe, somewhere deep, he wouldn't allow himself the luxury of pretending._

 

_Pretending he had a future. Pretending things would get better–that he would find a family of his own._

 

_Pretending that he could hold on to one–just one–good thing in his miserable life._

 

_He scratched again with his cheap dollar store pen on the scrap piece, watching the thin black lines go across, appearing under the magic tip. There were harsh zig-zags across and, in some places, they had created holes. Now, Keith was a little gentler, tracing swirls and absent-minded patterns across the already present blue lines of the white space._

 

_He let his thoughts go. He let his hopes breathe free and curl his lips upward. Then, his pen stopped._

 

_His smile became a line, firmer and straighter than any on the page, even as harsh as his earlier scribbles had been. Keith's eyes drifted to the yellowing paper, wondering, if it was yellow now, what would it be years from then?_

 

_Impulsively, because Keith had always been rather impulsive, he pulled the paper to him and started. His hopes fell away and he pushed his dreams aside._

 

_Keith's wide, adolescent eyes sombered and he leaned closer to make his letters as clear as he could._

 

_And, as those words spilled from him to the paper, as Keith sealed the letter in a long, white envelope, and approached the deadened tree down the road, he let go._

 

_He let go, but he still wondered… continued to wonder for years to come..._

 

_Had he always been destined to end up alone?_

 

-/-

 

It was an early Wednesday morning. Like, an _early_ Wednesday morning. It was 4:30 am. Keith was in some convenience store downtown _attempting_ to arrest a guy that didn’t seem to realize what sleep was, or that most people required it–even superheroes.

 

Keith should have been asleep in bed right about then, but he was there, in a dark aisle, surrounded by bags of chips and the blaring of the store alarm. He was trying to pin where the guy kept disappearing to, because, apparently, it wasn’t enough to deal with some amateur robber at ungodly hours of the morning. No, he also had to handle the guy’s powers too, something Keith had never actually faced in the few months he’d been working with Voltron, which had led to being taken by surprise–not a great thing when Keith was tired and hot as hell, wearing paladin armor in the middle of July.

 

“Over here!” an exclamation sounded behind his back and Keith instinctively spun and slashed with his sword. Sword, not knife. Months, and he was still getting used to the whole Bayard thing. “Missed me!” the voice teased, behind him again. Keith growled and spun once more. This was getting him nowhere.

 

Where the heck was Lance when he needed him? Keith bet his long range skills would surely come in handy with the guy, who could disappear and reappear out of the shadows. He’d even hoped Pidge would pick up the call, despite the fact that they slept like a brick. Pidge had arrived back in Altea months ago, shortly after Shiro had revealed his connection with Matt, but, even with two new paladins, things weren’t any better.

 

Chaos had erupted in Altea after the Galra’s main base had been taken down. Lance was no longer fighting the streets alone, but even the addition of Pidge and Keith couldn’t balance the sudden upheaval of criminal activity in the city. Somehow, the Galra had actually been keeping things in order. Organized criminal activity, not whatever this was now.

 

Another sudden “Boo!” had Keith spinning again and the guy punched him right in the gut. Ugh, that was going to bruise.

 

Lance had to be coming soon, right? He'd only just left for work when Allura’s text had roused Keith, who'd only just collapsed back into bed. But Keith shook his head at the thought. He could handle this guy on his own. It would be difficult, but he had this. It wasn't like he was completely useless.

 

Still, ever since Keith had become an official paladin of Voltron, fighting beside Lance–his boyfriend, soulmate, and, now, recent teammate–had been his favorite part of the gig and one of the only things that kept him grounded in the chaotic city where they now lived.

 

Altea was so much different than it had been a few months ago.

 

Keith sidestepped just as a fist came hurling from the shadows, intent on making another purple mark in Keith's gut. Keith almost knocked into a shelf of chips. “Hey, idiot,” Keith called out gruffly, irritation getting the better of him. “Why don't you drop the bag, I'll cuff you, and you can get some shut eye in a nice jail cell. It's too early to be up, criminal intent or not.”

 

“It's funny you say that, _Red Paladin_ ,” the guy said and, with a sinking heart, Keith knew exactly where this was going. It was all the talk in Altea these days, every article headlining the newspapers. “How do _you_ get to act all high and mighty these days? You’ve done a whole lot worse than I have.”

 

And, no matter how many times Keith overheard it, read it, faced it as angry citizens protested on the streets, it never stung any less.

 

Keith wanted to tell the guy off–tell him exactly what the differences were between them. That Keith hadn't had a choice in what he was doing. That Keith's crime was _behind him_ now. But Keith wasn't good with words, or calming himself down enough to convince some guy he didn't owe an explanation. Keith was good at action.

 

So he charged the guy. And, just as Keith was slashing his bayard, shadow-man once again disappeared.

 

With a frustrated growl, Keith tightened his hand on the sword, surveying the shop. This guy really could have escaped already; what was he doing? Ticking Keith off on purpose?

 

That was when Keith saw the villain slip out the door, as if on cue, and had to bolt after him. He was going to escape–shit shit shit shi-

 

And that was when Lance arrived, swooping in out of the blue… on Blue. As soon as his lion hit the ground, he jumped off and tackled the guy to the ground with only his feet, planting one foot firmly to the guy's back and kept him kissing the concrete. Lance glanced down at him, looking as if the effort had been nothing at all, then up to Keith. Keith could feel a smug aura radiating from his stupid soulmate.

 

“Hey, Red,” Lance said from his proud perch. The guy groaned beneath him but neither hero took much mind. “Miss me?”

 

Keith rolled his eyes and rested his weight on one leg, still in the door to the convenience store and knowing Lance wouldn’t be able to see the exasperated gesture behind their tinted helmets. “You left like an hour ago.”

 

“And what a lonely hour it must have been,” Lance said and Keith could practically _feel_ the smirk from behind Lance’s visor.

 

“Come on. Just cuff the guy so I can go sleep, like I should have been an hour ago,” Keith said, crossing his arms and deactivating his bayard. Lance sighed dramatically.

 

“But _I_ can’t go sleep. No fair.”

 

“Sometimes life’s not fair. It’s sure not fair where this guy’s heading,” Keith said, nodding to the ground at their captured foe.

 

“Excuse,” Lance scolded, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense and Keith felt a smile come on at his soulmate’s antics. “Our judicial system is quite fair.”

 

A wheeze came from the ground and they both looked down. “If it was any semblance of fair,” the guy said, meeting Keith’s eyes indignantly, “This guy would be locked up for the rest of his life.”

 

And there it was again, the cold dripping in his heart, blood stopping in its normal run to instead leak like a lifeless faucet. Keith could tell Lance had frozen as well, staring down at the guy, but, before his soulmate could come to his senses, and Keith’s aid, Keith stepped over and cuffed the guy himself.

 

“I don’t recall asking your opinion,” he said, lifting the guy after Lance had stepped off. He hoisted the criminal over to Red, ready to haul him off to the station and be rid of him forever.

 

“Red,” Lance called behind him, worry evident in his voice. It was always the same. Over these past few months, the blows had never stopped coming. The city was in outrage over the refuge Voltron had provided him, a criminal, and one of the worst ones at that. Reporters swarmed for answers whenever a lion was spotted; citizens shouted their outrage; newspapers always asked: _What is Voltron thinking?_

 

The team had taken a lot of abuse for the simple fact that Keith was now among them, that a paladin was shown to be above the law in their eyes. The city blamed them, the police didn’t trust them, and the mayor himself spoke out against them. None of that was a surprise though, especially after everything Keith personally had done to the mayor.

 

It wasn’t only Keith they were mad at, and that was probably the worst thing. Keith had made this mistake, Keith had done so many wrong things, and his friends were paying for it. They got yelled and glared at when they were paladins. They had to idly listen as people cursed them in the streets, when they were nothing but citizens and unable to defend themselves because _no one could know_. Shiro, Lance, Allura, Coran, Pidge, even Hunk all the way in Balmera, had to deal with it all for his sake.

 

And, still, Lance cared enough to worry about _him_. Keith knew it all hurt Lance just as much as it did him, yet Keith still did not have that power, far beyond anything the lions could give him. He did not have the power to help them.

 

So he refused help in return.

 

“I got this, Blue,” Keith said at last to his soulmate’s worry, not turning to watch when that worry would not fade. “Go take care of your business.”

 

Lance must have picked up on Keith’s mood because, next thing the Red Paladin knew, Lance was making his way to Blue from the corner of his eye.

 

“Alright,” he said softly, understandingly, and, again, it was something that Keith did not deserve. “See you later.” Keith nodded, then, Lance was gone in a gust of wind and Keith was left with Red and a criminal who didn’t know when to shut his trap.

 

“The great Red Paladin…” the guy leered and Keith sighed. This was going to be a long fly over to the station.

 

-/-

 

Dropping criminals off at the police station as Red was never a fun ordeal. No one trusted him, and Keith knew it was for good reason. Still, the narrowed eyes and passing whispers he could go without.

 

Keith made sure to get in and out as quickly as he could, shoulders tense and mouth in a grimace that he still tried to suppress even knowing it was impossible to see through the helmet. He was sure the cops could hear it in his voice. Then again, they did a piss poor job of concealing their own contempt, so Keith didn't feel _too_ bad.

 

When Keith arrived back at HQ, he didn’t bother to update anyone before slinking off to his and Lance’s room, collapsing on the bed without taking his armor off. Keith was exhausted, and the blame no longer rested on the fact that he was up so early.

 

Through droopy eyes, Keith wondered if it would be acceptable to sleep the day away and ditch work. He felt like burrowing into the blankets and pillows and never coming out.

 

In the end, he decided to keep his alarm on and get what sleep he could before curling up, ready to succumb to the clutches of sweet unconsciousness. Still, he did not sleep. As horribly, exhaustingly tired as he was, his thoughts would not let him go.

 

The city was slowly wearing him down, it felt like. It was obvious he was unwelcome here, in Altea, as the Red Paladin, but the paranoia did not stop there.

 

The civilians were unsure, and that bred fear and contempt. The people felt alienated from Voltron, who now protected infamous villains and refused to let the judicial system take Keith in. More than ever, the people were fearful of their hidden identities. More specifically, the Red Paladin’s identity.

 

 _“He could be anyone,”_ he’d heard someone in his office say just last week. _“Maybe they’re not even a he? What if they're not even human?”_

 

As strange as it sounded, anything was possible and the unknown made people scared. The situation was spiraling out of control and Keith couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t stop the hate in their eyes. He couldn’t stop the fear in their voices. He couldn’t stop the hurt it brought him and the consequences to the rest of his team.

 

Keith couldn’t stop the divide it split into each of their consciences: the need to help their city, or to help him.

 

He couldn't stop his fears, his nightmares.

 

Try as he could, he could not stop any of it. Not the simplest of his worries. He couldn’t ignore everything that frightened him–so much these days, it seemed.

 

It helped that he rarely woke Lance with the nightmares. That was, at least, one realm of control he seemed to have these days.

 

Most nights, Keith would start awake, breath caught and heart beating like a hummingbird’s. He seldom startled Lance enough to wake him, and he was grateful, but it left him alone.

 

The dark room would wrap him in terrifying nothingness until his mind caught up and his vision adjusted. In the past, that would be where Keith would remain, as still as possible, hands clutching the sheets and eyes darting around the darkness. Since sleeping beside another person, though, Keith had learned to lean into that warmth, take comfort in it. He didn’t dare wake Lance, but never had he that comfort before when he had nightmares.

 

Beside a sleeping Lance, Keith could work to tear the nightmares from his mind and feel safe again.

 

But, on some nights, he _did_ wake Lance up. He would thrash or shout and blink through the dark to find himself in Lance’s arms, a soothing shush coming from his lips. Keith would be grateful, at first, then would come the guilt.

 

Last night Keith had had another one of those nightmares. Last night, he had woken Lance.

 

Only half awake, Keith had been a bit delirious. He’d kept wiping his hands against the blankets. Wiping wiping wiping, because he had wanted to get it off–there had been so much-

 

_Blood._

 

Lance had held his hands to stop their motions, and their warmth had brought Keith back to Earth, little by little.

 

_“Shiro or the mayor?”_

 

Keith had shaken his head, and Lance had taken that to mean he didn't want to talk about it. He hadn’t, but the shake had been because Lance was wrong- his words were wrong- And Keith couldn’t stop thinking about the-

 

_Blood._

 

He knew Lance hadn’t fallen back to sleep that night. For a while, Keith hadn’t been able to either. He was refraining himself from rubbing, wiping the horrible mess off.

 

When his alarm had gone off in the morning, Keith woke up, without memory of drifting back to sleep. Lance, however had been too alert for someone who’d just woken up.

 

Back in the present, dimly lit room, the rumpled bed he shared with Lance, but so achingly devoid of his soulmate, Keith felt guilty for trying to go back to sleep. Why should he when, because of him, Lance had gotten none himself? It seemed wrong.

 

He knew he couldn’t control something like _having nightmares_ , but something in Keith just wouldn’t let him doze when Lance was out working, probably exhausted because of him.

 

If he were honest with himself, he might have admitted that it was hard going to sleep without Lance at all, guilt be damned.

 

A while later, Keith’s alarm went off and he stared at it longer than necessary, thinking and thinking of nothing at all. It was time to get up, time for work.

 

Keith’s hand found its way to the phone and turned the sound off. He was almost grateful. He’d rather be sitting at a cramped desk than alone in that bed.

 

So Keith sighed and climbed to his feet, prepared to ready himself to leave.

 

-/-

 

Lance hadn’t been tired that day until he finally got off of his feet, which, luckily, wasn’t until he was off work and back in HQ. He could have gone to sleep right then and there, he was so tired, but, after last night, he could only feel right going to bed with Keith.

 

Keith tried to hide it, but Lance knew he wasn't doing too well at the moment. None of them were, and none of them wanted to admit it, but, with Keith, Lance had exclusive insight. He knew about the nightmares and he knew about the trauma the Galra had left him with more than anyone - maybe not by relatability, but from proximity.

 

So, Lance was worried for his soulmate. He wondered how much Keith hid from him, about the nightmares and the slander in the streets. That was what terrified Lance the most - the not knowing, and the not being told.

 

He didn’t push Keith. He didn’t tell him how much this scared him. There was too much to worry about already.

 

And they had agreed on trust.

 

But he couldn’t forget the weight of a secret laid out in the open, of the months and months of lies. He couldn’t forget the feeling of betrayal, of shock and despair that surged through him. Most importantly, though, was what he feared most to be repeated. He remembered realizing what Keith had gone through, and been hopeless to help at all.

 

He remembered standing in their apartment’s kitchen once, an apartment they could no longer have because of issues with their identities. There, Keith had broken down, holding onto Lance like a lifeline. Lance had been lost and afraid and hurt because Keith was hurt, so so hurt, and wouldn’t even tell him why.

 

Lance had learned what had happened that day, all for Lotor’s sick sport and a psychotic command for allegiance - allegiance won by deliberately breaking a part of Keith forever.

 

Lance had thought about that a lot. Last night, he’d thought about it so much that he hadn’t been able to get back to sleep.

 

He had been relieved Keith had been able to get back to sleep after his nightmare, but it certainly wasn’t enough. They both needed sleep badly, but Lance refused until he could drag Keith with him.

 

Which was how he ended up dozing in the lounge.

 

“Lance?” a soft voice woke him, nudging his foot and causing him to blearily blink open his crusty eyes. The room was bright, but not blinding, and, standing before him, was none other the most beautiful man in the world.

 

“Keith,” Lance greeted with a sleepy grin, and a small, fond smile formed on Keith’s lips. Lance liked seeing this Keith. He rarely saw soft, fond Keith.

 

“Go to bed, idiot,” Keith said, his voice careful, but warm. Lance continued to smile up at him.

 

“Only if you come with me,” he said and he knew Keith wouldn’t say no to his sleepy plea. Keith rolled his eyes, but nonetheless nodded and agreed, motioning him forward. Lance stood up slowly, eyes all the while on his beautiful soulmate... Lance may have gotten really sappy when he was tired.

 

But Lance happily followed Keith out of the lounge and down the hall, vaguely remembering that he - and probably Keith too - hadn’t eaten. “Are you hungry?” he asked, trying to blink some of the tiredness from his eyes.

 

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

 

Lance shook his head, answering honestly, “Too tired.”

 

When they got to the room, Lance flung himself down on the bed. Screw pajamas.

 

Keith laid down with him, and Lance threw an arm over his chest, sighing contently and already near blissful unconsciousness. Now that they were there together, now that he could be sure that Keith was by his side and not in danger and would get sleep and Lance would be there if he had another nightmare, now he could really go to sleep.

 

“Night, Keith,” he mumbled and Keith rested his head against his.

 

“Night, Lance,” Keith replied and Lance peeked open his eye just a little.

 

Because, when he peeked open his eye just a little and when Keith’s voice was soft like this, Lance could sometimes catch that beautifully unguarded smile on his soulmate’s lips. He could see an expression that Keith showed no one, not even him, because it was so raw, so real, and so safe behind Keith’s walls. And, usually, that look was directed at him.

 

Lance wanted to see it one day without hiding. He and Keith had agreed on trust, but some things would take time. And Lance would wait forever for this one.

 

Lance closed his eyes again and listened to Keith’s breaths slow. He was fighting sleep, Lance could tell it. He must have felt guilty over last night; he always did when he woke Lance up, but Lance knew how to calm him down. That was why he insisted on going to sleep together on nights like these.

 

Lance only wished he knew that was what Keith wanted too. He never talked about his nightmares, about his fears, about… there was a lot he didn’t talk about, now that Lance thought about it. They had agreed on trust, yet Keith still had his barriers up.

 

Did Keith want his help? Was Lance even helping at all?

 

Did Keith really need him? Did Keith need him as much as Lance needed Keith?

 

Probably not. He had survived for so long on his own - had found Shiro on his own, worked against the Galra, and Lance hadn’t known what was right under his nose for months.

 

But they had agreed on trust. Lance wouldn’t ask because he had to _trust_ Keith. Because Keith said he was trusting him too.

 

If Keith didn’t need Lance as much as Lance needed him, then he could live with that. Just being with him was enough; just knowing Keith was content to be with him was _enough_.

 

So Lance allowed himself to drift off, stars outside their window winking with their wonders and secrets, keeping that in mind.

 

Just that was enough, for now.

 

-/-

 

“The Galra haven’t been active since our take-down of their base, but they are still out there. We must be attentive,” Allura was saying in their weekly conference. She often said something along these lines, ever paranoid about the Galra, it seemed.

 

“Allura, we _know_ ,” Lance said, predictably, but unwisely. “It’s been months since we’ve heard anything of them. Isn’t the city as it is now enough trouble?”

 

“They know three of our identities now, Lance,” Allura countered, same as ever and eyes narrowed. “They could use that against us, not to mention the chaos in the city, which you’ve just pointed out, and our situation with the lions. We’re distracted and unguarded.”

 

“Keith says he’s got it! Right, Keith?” Lance asked and Keith wanted to put his head in his hands. Why did he have to get dragged into this?

 

“Yeah,” he answered, somewhat uneasily as he shot looks between Allura and Lance. They both saw right through it and, now, Allura’s attention was solely on him.

 

“You’ve been out in the field. I thought your bond was better now?” Allura asked, sounding borderline furious. Lance looked like he had realized his mistake, as he was now the one glancing between them.

 

“It is!” Keith answered eagerly, and probably a bit too defensively. “Red and I are good.”

 

Allura narrowed her eyes again, this time at him, but he decided to look at Lance instead. Then, when Lance gave him that guilty look for getting him into this mess, he looked away. Lance shouldn’t feel guilty. All the animosity between Allura and him was his own fault.

 

The truth was, Red and Keith were not good. For months, ever since that day the Galra had shot him up with their special serum to sever their bond, they hadn’t been the same. Red still liked him, but he didn’t trust Keith as entirely as he once had. When Keith turned and expected him to be there, he wasn’t. When Keith called, sometimes Red wouldn’t even hear. And it wasn’t so much that Red _hated_ him now. He could feel Red’s frustration at the situation as strongly as his own. There was just a… disconnect between them. Something in them had disappeared. The bond wasn’t whole.

 

But he could still perform his paladin duties. He had to. The city was in too much upheaval for him to sit back, especially when Shiro still wasn’t prepared to go back in. His brother was still adjusting to his arm and mending his own bond with his lion. Keith had almost hoped they had similar problems with their lions when Red had started to fade from him, but, with Shiro, it was entirely different. It had been merely time and distance that had hurt their bond. Shiro’d had the Galra’s serum before, but the effects had never lasted. His bond was still whole.

 

So to say that Keith was a bit lost would be an understatement. He was confused and a little scared at the situation, he’d admit… at least to himself. He really hadn’t been with Red for all that long but he felt the loss of their bond like a cut from a knife.

 

“I need paladins that are a little more than just ‘good’ with their lions, Keith,” Allura said and it sounded like a warning. At this, Keith’s brows furrowed and he looked up to where she stood at the head of the table in frustration.

 

“Really? I thought you needed all the paladins you could get right now?” he shot back and the room went silent. It wasn’t the first time he’d talked back to her, but it still put them all on edge. Keith knew he shouldn’t have - it was bad enough there was so much animosity at Voltron, much less conflict on the inside - but it wasn’t in his nature to sit back and take bullshit he didn’t deserve.

 

He deserved a lot with what he had done, but he did not deserve shit for helping them protect the city.

 

So, rather than deal with the aftermath, Keith decided to get up and leave. Run away. It was what he was good at.

 

It wasn’t long until Shiro caught up with him in the hallway. It didn’t surprise Keith, but it did make him wonder how much Lance was now squirming to get out of that room. Usually, Shiro was the diplomat when it came to Allura’s contempt for Keith and, without Shiro there, Keith hoped Lance didn’t do something stupid.

 

“Woah, slow down there,” his brother said and Keith huffed and complied, slowing his pace slightly. Shiro shook his head and matched his pace. “You know you shouldn’t pick fights with Allura.”

 

“Oh, so I should let her walk all over me?” Keith asked, glancing sharply at Shiro.

 

Shiro shook his head. “Listen, I know Allura isn’t acting fair-”

 

“You’ve said that before. Every time. It’s been months, Shiro!” Keith said, pace quickening again as he stomped his frustration out.

 

Shiro was silent for a second before he spoke up. “I know, Keith. Believe me. I’ll try talking to her again, alright?”

 

At this, Keith deflated and he slowed considerably. He shook his head. “No, you don’t have to do that. I know it’s not your fault.”

 

“I know that too, Keith, but I will anyway,” Shiro said and, suddenly his voice was sterner. “This has gone on for long enough.”

 

Keith looked at his brother, a little worried. Shiro rarely got this way. Serious, sure, but angry? “Shiro-”

 

But his brother cut him off with a wave. “You’re my brother, Keith,” he said with a serious gaze. “And, it may not seem it from your experience with her, but Allura is a good person. She’s just let her hatred for the Galra go too deep. She’s let this distrust go on long enough.”

 

Keith looked at him with wide eyes, recalling once when Shiro had found out someone was bullying him at school. This was the same way he had been then, protective and stern, but it was so much different now. Allura was his friend.

 

And Shiro had enough on his plate already. He had nightmares too, of torture and helplessness and experimentation. He was still getting use to his arm, and it seemed like, most hours of the day, he was holed up somewhere trying to find Matt with Pidge.

 

Each day that nothing came up, Keith could see a new weight added to his brother’s shoulders, weighing them down down down-

 

Keith shook his head again. “Please, Shiro,” he pleaded, looking dead into his eyes. “Leave it alone.”

 

At this, Shiro finally took pause, assessing his brother’s stance and demeanour, scanning with a quick, critical eye.

 

“Are you sure?” he finally asked, looking uncertain. Keith could see how much he wanted to help, how much he wanted to try straightening out this whole mess, but it wasn’t a mess that could simply be fixed. Keith nodded his head. Shiro sighed, his shoulders slumping down. There was that weight again, and a part of Keith felt that constant ache of guilt gnawing at his stomach.

 

“Can I help you and Pidge today?” Keith asked, and Shiro looked up, confused, but only for a second. He seemed to recognize the olive branch and accept it.

 

With a weak smile, Shiro nodded his head. “Of course, Keith.”

 

Everyone was getting a little hopeless these days. Allura’s temper ran at a shorter fuse. Coran’s smiles were weaker, his eyes tired. Hunk spoke with an edge of guilt when video calling in, away in Balmera.

 

Lance was anxious. About the voices in the street, the hatred that mounted every day. Shiro was stressed, with little sleep and a lost soulmate.

 

And Pidge was afraid, though they tried not to show it. They had been looking for their brother for so long, had at least gotten leads. The past few months had been radio silent, though, and Keith could tell they were fearing the worst.

 

That day, after a long, arduous process of hunting, searching, researching, nothing was to be found. Matt was gone, and Keith had to swallow down the horrible thought that maybe he would never be found.

 

He would never dare say that out loud. It would only confirm their worst fears. Shiro would be crushed. Pidge would be broken.

 

But their situation was looking darker every day, and it was hard to keep the possibilities away.

 

Maybe things wouldn’t get better.

 

-/-

 

Burke’s laboratories. It was weird getting orders to go there _not_ to steal something.

 

Keith would have rather never stepped foot in the place again, but it was Allura’s orders. And Keith was doing his damn best to stay on her good side. Still, he was nervous. It had to have been the Galra who’d sent someone there. Keith didn’t want to run into anyone who knew him. It would have best to just avoid the labs in the first place.

 

He didn’t have such a luxury though, and he suited up. Red purred at his door, trying to hurry him up, but Keith didn’t listen to him. Despite being on call as a hero of Altea, this was one mission he had to psych himself up for.

 

Eventually, he couldn’t pretend putting his suit on took this much time, and he was forced out into the hallway, following his lion to the roof. From there, they took off, Red a shoot of color through the air. Keith was used to his speed, basked in it with the wind against his arms and visor. He wished he could get away with taking the helmet off, if only to feel the air around them, but knew the risk of anyone finding out was too great.

 

He was already afraid enough that the Galra were going to do something like that. They had three of the five paladins’ civilian identities up their sleeves and more power than they’d had in a very long time, despite their main headquarters being compromised.

 

When they landed on the roof of the labs, Keith leaped from Red’s back and looked down at the surface beneath his feet. Below him could be anyone, and, with his identity up their sleeve, with Lance’s and Shiro’s identities up their sleeve, they had advantages Keith didn’t.

 

Still, Keith had advantages too. He had been a part of the Galran ranks for a time, after all.

 

And, with that thought in mind, Keith strode to the door of the roof with set shoulders and a determined step. Whatever waited for him down there, Keith would be ready for it.

 

Just as he was reaching for the doorknob though, a low rumble sounded from behind him. He turned to look at Red who hadn’t followed like Keith thought he would.

 

 _Green_ , Red said and Keith paused. That was right… He was supposed to wait for Pidge and Green to come. They both were on duty, after all.

 

But the Galra was already in the labs. They could get away if Keith didn’t do something.

 

“Stand guard,” he said, turning back to the door. “Tell them I’m already inside when they get here.”

 

There was the feeling of Red rolling his eyes in the back of Keith’s head, and Keith would have reacted in kind if he didn’t notice how distant the line between them felt once again. It was like radio static. One moment Red would be clear, the next it was difficult as hell to understand him.

 

Keith set his shoulders again. He wouldn’t think of that now. Now, he had better things to do. He had a villain to take down.

 

So he opened the door and went in. It was funny going in with the door already unlocked. It felt backwards, but it made him feel a lot better than breaking and entering had. There were a lot of things about this job that reminded him of his days with the Galra and it was always a relief when something like this contradicted it instead of dragging his guilt out, kicking and screaming.

 

Keith went immediately for the storage rooms, checking each in a manner like he would have if he’d come to steal the product instead of protect it. He didn’t think too much on the memory.

 

Still… walking these halls again… after so long being away… it was like walking through a past life.

 

Keith didn’t dwell on the rooms that were obviously still locked tight. A Galra wouldn’t lock themselves in a room. It was more about speed and force with them. Get in. Get the stuff. Get out. Fight your way out if you have to.

 

_Victory or death._

 

Keith shivered as the words rang in his head. If he had a penny for everytime he’d heard that while he was with them, Keith would have enough to buy this entire laboratory.

 

Just another memory Keith shoved aside as he came to another door. He didn’t even need to check it to know it was unlocked. Whoever they’d sent had done a sloppy job breaking it open.

 

It could be an easy job if the guy was lazy or inexperienced enough for something like this, but Keith was wary. The Galra always had a trick up their sleeve. He couldn’t take anything at face value.

 

So he summoned his bayard, a long red sword in place of the purple knife his mother had given him. Apparently the knife made him look too much like a Galra, reminded people where he had come from. The sword wasn’t bad though.

 

Then he nudged the door open slowly, taking everything in before he stepped forward. He readied the sword in front of him, already having spotted his target. They were straightening up from where they’d been ruffling through a duffle bag, black and purple suit covering their body while a helmet covered their face. Keith wondered if this was what Lance would have seen when finding him at these very same laboratories.

 

A snarl came from the woman as she hoisted her body up, in a way that commanded fear. She was huge already, with broad shoulders and huge fists that looked ready to crush his head. Still, Keith did not allow himself to be afraid. He didn’t have time for something like that. Instead, he let adrenaline take over, flooding his veins.

 

He stooped lower, readying his fighting stance. He eyed her and, if he could have seen past the helmet, he imagined she’d be doing the same. Probably wearing a lethal snarl.

 

Then, something happened that Keith hadn’t been expecting. Something hit him from behind.

 

He fell to his knees, shock making him drop his sword and almost reaching for his head before he thought better of it and went for the sword again. It was kicked out of his reach. The woman across the room was laughing.

 

“Nice one, Lotor! Rip his arms off!” she encouraged and a sigh from a voice Keith knew all too well sounded from behind him.

 

“Zethrid, perhaps once I’m finished with him you may do so. I do not enjoy getting my hands dirty,” Lotor said, voice as aloof as ever. Keith turned, narrowing his eyes at the man. Lotor looked down, tinted visor reflecting Keith’s own. It was frustrating never seeing anyone’s facial expressions in this line of work, but Keith had never been about reading people before anyway. “Why, Keith. How good to see you.”

 

It wasn’t good, in case anyone was wondering. Not to Keith and it didn’t particularly sound like it for Lotor either.

 

“Loturd,” Keith greeted and Lotor paused and looked down at him, gracing him with a more level look at his helmet. Keith satisfactorily thought of a smug smile slipping off the guy’s sorry face.

 

“I see your soulmate has been telling you things,” Lotor said, voice dripping like acid. “Lance McClain, correct?”

 

Immediately, Keith’s own smug smirk dropped like he’d only just been thinking Lotor’s had. Lotor chuckled as Keith’s fists clenched. “What do you want?” he demanded.

 

“We’re in Burke’s labs, Keith. I’d think you’d already know.”

 

“Yeah?” Keith replied, scooting back as if he were trying to get away from Lotor. “Well that’s not going to happen.”

 

“Oh, really,” Lotor said, humoring him. “Might I ask why?”

 

Keith reached back, almost to his sword. It had been over here, right? Just a little-

 

“Thank you for picking that up, Zethrid,” Lotor said suddenly. “The little paladin seems to think he’ll be able to retrieve it.”

 

Keith’s head snapped up, looking behind him. Towering over him was Zethrid, the woman with eager fists and, now, his bayard.

 

Shit.

 

Keith sprung up and Zethrid easily pushed him back down where he landed on his butt. Keith looked up, wide-eyed. Then, Lotor came over and held out a hand. Zethrid placed the bayard in it and Lotor looked over it in interest. “Go finish up. I will take care of him,” he said and Zethrid paused for a moment, looking between them, before turning and going back to the bag in the center of the room.

 

Keith was left facing Lotor, which should have been less intimidating.

 

Instead, Keith was assaulted by a sudden memory. Hands closing around his neck. A silky, acidic voice speaking to him as the last thing he would ever hear. Everything going silent even though there should have been noise, there should have been something, and his vision was blurring-

 

Keith was always shaking away memories these days. He shook away this one now, focusing on Lotor and anything but his hands, holding his bayard. He needed to get it back… but he didn’t want to get near those hands…

 

“What is it, _Red_?” Lotor so obviously mocked. “Not going to attack?”

 

And, well, if there’s one way to goad Keith into doing something-

 

He attacked.

 

Leaping up, Keith immediately went for a kick, trying to sweep Lotor’s feet out from under him. Lotor swept out of the way and went for a strike of his own, almost cutting across Keith’s cheek with a knife he hadn’t noticed he’d had, before Keith ducked. They danced like that for a while, both striking and dodging, missing and expertly in synch in a way that made Keith sick to think about.

 

Neither got in a single hit for a long time. The first blow landed, though, was by Lotor, and, with Keith taken so off guard, the match was at an end almost immediately. Lotor had him pinned to a wall in a second, knife pointed at his jugular.

 

“You’ve traded Galra secrets with the likes of Voltron,” Lotor said and Keith got brief satisfaction at hearing he was out of breath. That didn’t last long. “And you will pay.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” Keith asked, out of breath himself. “Angry I’m not under your thumb anymore?”

 

The knife dug in deeper and Keith only just kept in a pained yelp.

 

“Do you not realize the imbalance you’ve brought to this city?” Lotor asked, something sliding into his voice that Keith did not like the sound of. “There is no longer good or evil because no one _trusts Voltron_ ,” Lotor sounded too pleased with this. “You may not be under our thumbs, but you’ve brought about something so much better. You’ve brought chaos to Altea.”

 

Lotor pressed the knife further, cutting his suit and drawing blood. “So things will go one of two ways,” he continued and held up a finger from the hand that gripped the knife. “Number one, Voltron tries to make this work and everything falls to pieces around you. Or,” another finger raised, “They do the only thing they can to restore order and shun you. Claim they made a mistake and hope to gain the trust of the city again.”

 

And to that- to that Keith had no answer. Instead, he did what he would have been dragged off to his grade school counselors yet again for doing, and lost his temper. He lifted an arm and slugged Lotor right in the head, earning himself a shallow slash at his throat and blood down his front. It wasn’t deep though. He’d live.

 

At least, he would until Lotor got his hands on him, which happened again in the next second. Lotor’s recovery time was scary.

 

Then Keith was slammed against the floor, a snarl in his face in a way very uncharacteristic from the man it came from. Keith barely thought of this with Lotor looming over him though, knife lost, but hands fully available.

 

The one thing Keith had been afraid of the most. He froze.

 

Lotor punched him hard in the face, leaving Keith blinking rapidly across the room, neck twisted to the side. Lotor didn’t like the fact that Keith refused to look up again, though, and went to grip him by the hair to tug him back. Before he could do so, he was knocked off.

 

Keith jumped up, finding his own recovery time impressive too. When his head swam and his feet felt too far away to steady, though, he knew he’d thought too soon.

 

When Keith was able to blink away the blur from his eyes, he found himself looking at two people, and not the two he had been with before. Yeah, Lotor was still there, but that wasn’t Zethrid across the room squaring off against him. It was a man in some sort of cloak and mask.

 

Keith didn’t know who it was, but they had saved him. He decided he could take their side for now. He held his hands up and faced Lotor, who was now looking between them.

 

Then, he stepped back. “I see,” he said, then turned tail and leaped out a window. Keith would have wondered what the fuck Lotor was doing, but he didn’t have time to. The other figure in the room was turning to him now.

 

Keith turned their way, not loosening his stance or putting down his fists. He didn’t know who this guy was, but-

 

“You’re a paladin of Voltron, aren’t you?” the guy asked, and Keith narrowed his eyes.

 

“What’s it to you?”

 

The guy paused, then, “Oh. Sorry let me…” then he was reaching up to his mask and pressing the side of it. Keith tensed as the mask unraveled where it was, revealing a strangely familiar face. Brown hair, friendly smile. But there was something-

 

The guy held out his hand, despite being way too far away for Keith to actually shake it.

 

“Hi, I’m-”

 

But there was movement behind them and they both spun, interrupted the guy to notice the short, haulted figure in the doorway. Keith immediately relaxed upon seeing the suit, identical to his, but green, the green and red lions flanking them.

 

Pidge looked shocked, though; Keith could tell by their body language. They spluttered for a second, then fumbled with their visor. It swished upward, revealing their face, gawking in shock, eyes fixed on the figure across the room. The stranger gasped.

 

Slowly, Keith was starting to put it together. It only sealed the truth when Pidge, sounding strangled and scared and so so hopeful, finally gasped.

 

“Matt?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as a wise tumblr post once said: "fuck it". sequels never make anything better so i'm basically here to fuck shit up. hope you all like it though :)
> 
> this fic isn't going to have a real update schedule, so sorry about that in advance. be patient and i will get the chapters out when i do. you can find me on tumblr @codevassie bc sometimes i do requests over there, or announce updates. 
> 
> thank you all so much and i'll see you next time!


	2. Bad Blood

_ "If we're only ever looking back _

_ We will drive ourselves insane…" _

 

**-Bad Blood, Bastille**

 

-/-

 

So this was the guy. Matt Holt, Pidge’s brother, Shiro’s soulmate. Nerd extraordinaire, smart aleck, all wide-eyed curiosity and Monster-induced sleeplessness. The man they had been looking for for all this time.

 

The reunions had been blinding, too much for Keith to see. There had been a swelling in his heart, watching as Pidge ran into their brother’s arms, and sobbed into his shoulder. Keith hadn’t been able to wipe the smile off of his face when they’d brought him back to HQ and time had stood still, there between Shiro and Matt.

 

But it had all been too personal, too… good. Keith hadn’t grown accustomed enough to  _ good  _ in his lifetime. So, as a witness to all this, Keith couldn’t help the whisper in his heart that said it was too good to be true, that had to force himself to rest with it, content and happy.

 

And he was  _ happy _ . That wasn’t the issue. He was happy for his friend, happy for his brother; he was happy for all of them. This was finally a win. It was what they’d all been working for for months, some of them for years. Keith was freaking  _ ecstatic _ .

 

That wasn't the problem.

 

Keith wasn’t sure what was the problem.

 

The next few weeks were filled with Matt. Matt had explained he worked for another team of heroes, organized in another city, and had come there after a lead. It was known that Altea was well taken care of, by the members of Voltron, recent news notwithstanding, but Matt’s team was working on something big, something that stretched between cities.

 

Allura had been ready to help right away. Keith tried not to feel jealous at how easily Matt had won her over. Then again, Matt had never been a notorious criminal.

 

Matt had, understandably, decided to stay in the city and contacted his team about it. He had been due back at Olkari shortly after his mission at Burke’s Labs, but, after finding Pidge and Shiro there, it was no surprise that he wanted to spend as much time as he could with them.

 

And Matt got along with all of them, not just Pidge, Shiro, and, somehow, Allura. He and Lance had clicked right away. They were quite similar, when Keith thought about it.

 

“Dorks,” he’d said once, nudging Shiro where they both stood off to the side, watching Lance and Matt talk animatedly about something. Pidge was throwing their hands in the air, exasperated with the discussion.

 

That had been yesterday. Today marked three weeks since they’d found Matt- or, really, since Matt had stumbled across them.

 

Keith and Matt hadn’t talked all that much, if he were honest. As much as Keith teased Shiro about the incoming shovel talk he was to have with his soulmate, he dreaded nothing more than a one-on-one with Matt.

 

That was probably a large part of Keith’s uneasiness with the whole thing. Matt, despite growing to be a part of the Voltron family faster than Keith had ever grown comfortable in his own private apartment, much less a shared space with five other people, was still an outsider in Keith’s mind. 

 

The general population was in agreement of one thing these days, and it was in their hatred of Red. Keith wondered what that made him in Matt’s eyes.

 

One morning, Keith was eating breakfast after a long night of patrol, ready to go collapse in bed as soon as he finished his cereal. The more he shoveled food into his mouth, though, the less inclined he was to stay. He considered pitching the rest and maybe falling asleep on the table. That sounded nice…

 

“So, you're the Red Paladin everyone's talking about.”

 

Keith’s head shot up. He was wide awake now.

 

At the door, Matt strolled in, right to the cupboards, which he opened at random in search for food. He was rather disorganized, despite being such a calculated person.

 

Keith had expected this, really. He knew that Matt would confront him about… it. The other shoe always dropped. Keith's grace period was up. 

 

Keith kept his eyes trained down at the table, trying to keep it all under wraps. His hand was starting to shake his spoon, though, clattering it against the bowl.

 

“Hey, hey, no need to freak out,” Matt waved, and Keith focused again to see he was looking his way, still halfway into a cupboard. He seemed a little overwhelmed with Keith's reaction. Keith sucked in a breath as subtly as he could, trying to calm himself, and Matt looked guilty as he leaned back, shutting the cabinet and heading toward the table. “Sorry, that probably wasn't the best way to start this whole thing.”

 

Keith could have said 'you think?’ or even 'wait, so you don't hate me?’ but he opted to stay quiet. To be honest, he couldn't handle either response.

 

“Listen,” Matt said,“I’m gonna say now that I've heard a lot about Red. I mean, everyone has. But, don’t worry, I’m not here to judge.”

 

Keith's fist clenched around his spoon again, his food turning sour in his stomach. Where the heck was his hero confidence now? Heck, he’d even take his villain confidence if that was what would get him through this.

 

“I don’t know what you’ve been through. I don’t know how much of the rumors are true. But Pidge trusts you, so I will too.”

 

This threw Keith for a loop. His brain started to buzz, confused. “Yeah?”

 

Matt shrugged. “Yeah. I trust Pidge. And I know that every story has different sides. From what I can tell, you’re a good guy, Keith.”

 

“Uh, thanks,” Keith said, a bit shocked. His eyes darted around the room, suddenly embarrassed by all the attention. He shifted in his seat. “And, for what it’s worth, you seem like a good guy too. I’m glad you’re my brother’s soulmate.”

 

At this, a soft smile quirked Matt’s lips. “Me too.”

 

“You better treat him well,” Keith said, gaining a little of his voice back. Matt’s eyes shot up, and red tinged his cheeks.

 

“What?” he asked, looking almost horrified. “Is this the 'be good to my brother or your death will be unexpected and painful' talk?”

 

“Most people say shovel talk,” Keith lifted an eyebrow. Matt threw up his hands to cover his eyes.

 

“We’re not even dating,” Matt whined, obviously embarrassed. It was kind of adorable, and Keith considered taking a picture to show Shiro.

 

Keith had expected as such, honestly - the not dating. The two were tip-toeing around each other like they were in a field of shattered glass. Keith smirked.

 

“You should remedy that,” he said, standing up and bringing his bowl to the sink to rinse. “Then I can give you a real shovel talk.”

 

Matt laughed, still covering his eyes, elbows resting on the table. Then, he spoke up. “Keith?”

 

“Er, yeah?” Keith answered.

 

“You did it for Shiro, right?”

 

Just as quickly as he'd dug himself out of the conversation, he was thrown back in. Keith’s blood ran cold. 

 

He nodded. “Yeah.”

 

Yeah, he had become a villain for him. Yeah, he had done the Galra’s every whim and bidding to keep Shiro safe. But, then again, he'd done it for Lance too. Keith had failed to rescue Shiro, but Voltron hadn’t. And Keith had been put back into the loop, and another person he loved put at risk.

 

“Thank you,” Matt said, jogging Keith out of his thoughts. Matt was looking at him, a hollow echo in his eye. For someone who Keith had come to associate with goofing and smiling, it was a shock to see. “That place was-” Matt shivered and dropped his eyes. “Just, thank you.”

 

“I didn’t rescue him,” Keith admitted, but Matt shook his head. Maybe he already knew that.

 

“But you kept him safe.”

 

A shock of white hair. An amputated arm, replaced with Galran technology.  _ Safe _ .

 

That’s when Matt stood up. “I think I’m actually going to sleep a little longer,” he said. Before leaving, he looked at Keith again. “You should too.”

 

Keith nodded. “Yeah, I will.”

 

Matt left. Keith followed not long after. He curled up with Lance in bed, exhausted.

 

Any time he closed his eyes, he saw Matt’s haunted ones reflected back. He’d seen the same look on Shiro before. He’d seen the same look in the mirror, sometimes, when he remembered the screams.

 

Another sleepless night.

 

-/-

 

The next day, Keith had to duck out of work for hero duties. Long ago, he had sympathized with Lance’s constant absences from work, having never really had that issue when he’d been working for the Galra. You see, when you were the ones causing the trouble, it was easier to bend your schedule around it.

 

When Keith had started working for the Galra, it had actually been his only job. The Galra paid well, which was weird, as he had been  _ blackmailed  _ into helping them.

 

But, the Galra wanted a lot more of his time, and a lot more of his loyalty, than that. The money had been as much a way to keep him silent, as it’d been to ensure his easy cooperation. Without another job, they expected him at their beck and call any time.

 

After he had come back to them, he’d already had a job - the very job he had to this day, actually. They’d been insistent that he quit, of course, but he’d managed to keep it in the end. Surely, it would have looked suspicious to quit suddenly like that. They would have made him quit eventually if he had stayed - the Galra had never really been patient - but they worked with it for that short time he was back with them. 

 

It was funny how normal that time had been, like he was any civilian griping over his shitty job, or grappling with his bosses for a better schedule. He hadn’t been forced to watch his brother tortured during that period of his Galra employment, since Shiro had been rescued. It was Keith’s biggest solace, the knowledge that - finally, at last, after all this time - his brother was safe.

 

The job still hadn’t been any sort of cup of tea though. They had stopped paying him, since he had a real job to hopefully do that for him. Taking the Galra’s money had always felt dirty to Keith, but it had allowed him to get by. There were no worries about bills and food. The stupid office job he had now didn’t pay for shit.

 

He wouldn’t trade it back for the world, though. Anything, even being the most hated person in Altea, was better than working for the Galra.

 

There had been… other parts of the job that didn’t quite settle with him during that time - in that period between Shiro’s rescue and finding out Lance was Blue. Keith had done things he still couldn’t comprehend - some stupid defense mechanism of his mind. That’s what he thought the nightmares were for, so his brain could try to sort through its bullshit. Something told him it wasn’t very successful.

 

He hadn’t been available for as much during that time for the Galra, but the jobs he did take for them he’d never forget.

 

Like his job with the mayor.

 

The point was, Keith had never had to deal with this whole ducking out of work, lying to his coworkers and boss, generally getting in trouble because he wouldn’t be where he was supposed to be. He was sure he’d be fired soon like Lance had last month from his cafe gig.

 

Lance had been really bummed about that one. He’d been there for a long time, since before the two had met. Almost a whole year, something Lance said he hadn’t achieved since before he’d become a hero. He’d had friends there and lots of memories at the place.

 

But leading a double life took sacrifices, and Lance had been much too willing for too long to make those. More than anything, Keith wished he could take some of Lance’s sacrifices as his own.

 

But Keith had to settle for the cruel balance of the world. Besides, Lance would never allow him to take on more than he already carried, the caring fool.

 

Even when so much the team carried was Keith’s fault.

 

Keith shook his head. It would do him no good to think thoughts like that. Placing blame, drowning in guilt - it would get him nowhere. He could not look back, as he’d always said.

 

“I want an arm!” a voice yelled cheerfully up ahead and Keith knew he had arrived at the right place. “An arm! An arm! But which which which?”

 

Apparently, some guy was making a ruckus in the mall, which was the kind of job for mall security except none of the guards were able to pin him down. Thus, Voltron had been called in, a singular paladin involved. It wouldn't be too hard -  _ shouldn't _ be too hard.

 

Keith sighed, walking up. This was… maybe a little humiliating. Paladin in full gear, escorting some guy out, who was probably a bit too high to be out of doors that day.

 

“Excuse me, sir,” Keith said, walking up. The man’s head swiveled to take him in as Keith approached, and he got even cheerier. “Why don't we get you out of here? You don't seem to be feeling well,” Keith said patiently, and was sort of proud with the very Lance-like way he was dealing with the situation. Normally, Keith wasn't so patient.

 

“Your arm will do nicely! Thank you!” the man exclaimed, and Keith furrowed his brows.  _ What the fuck? _

 

Then, the man lunged forward, a knife in his grasp.  _ Where had that come from? _

 

“Woah!” Keith exclaimed, dodging, as the man rabidly charged again and again. Each time, Keith dodged, but he was beginning to worry.

 

How had no one noticed the knife before?

 

“Sir,” Keith said sternly, dodging again. “Sir!”

 

He was getting real tired of these formalities.

 

“An ear! I want an ear too! Can I see yours?” the man asked, jumping closer yet again, and Keith wasted no time disarming him and pinning him to the floor.

 

“Sir, you're under arrest,” Keith said simply, a relieved breath escaping. He racked his brain for Miranda rights and whatever else he was supposed to say but, before he could get out a single word, he was thrown off.

 

And by “thrown off”, Keith was thrown  _ all the way across the room. _

 

He hit the wall with an  _ oomf! _ and slid down, stars swirling in his eyes. Keith blinked his vision into focus just in time to see the man approach again.

 

“No, I don't like that,” the man said, and shook his head like he was tsking over olives on pizza. “I just want an arm and an ear. Oh, and maybe a toe too!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up again as his gaze swept down to Keith’s foot. Keith gave an incredulous look before jumping up, distracting the man’s attention away from his creepy eye-roaming.

 

Keith scanned the man’s hands and noticed he didn't have his knife, still somewhere Keith couldn't remember throwing it. That was good, but the man obviously had some sort of superhuman strength. 

 

This was when Keith was supposed to call in for backup.

 

Instead, he lunged forward and tackled the guy again, pinning his scrawny frame to the linoleum floor. Once more, he was thrown off, the wall taking his breath again, but briefly. He was prepared this time.

 

_ Red! _ Keith called in his mind, and he hoped and prayed and clenched his fists, trying to throw the thought as far as he could into their broken bond.  _ Red! _

 

He would certainly need his help if Keith were to get this guy. Keith may not have had the means to take him in, but Red, who could stop a small car with his paw, had much more of a chance. 

 

But Red wasn't answering his calls. Keith had only left him outside; surely that couldn't be out of range.  _ Red! Please hear me! _

 

“Oh, oh. Where did my knife go?” the man wondered, and Keith’s brain went into alert. Maybe he could distract him again? Just until Red got there?

 

So, he charged.

 

The man held out a hand to stop him before Keith could go for the tackle. He grabbed Keith by the arm and held it out, almost yanking it out of its socket. “Yes, this will be a nice one, I think,” he murmured, stroking his thumb across his suit. Keith was frozen in place, fear coursing through his veins. Under the man's grip, he could feel the tension of an unknown, but powerful, strength.

 

_ Red! _ Keith thought desperately, and impulsively yanked his arm out of the man’s hold. Surprised, the man let go, and Keith thanked his lucky stars.  _ Red Red Red can you hear me? Seriously, Red?! _

 

“Wait, come back,” the man said calmly, confusedly, reaching out for Keith's retreating figure, but making no move to follow. Keith kept his eyes trained on the man. “I want to do it cleanly, so let me get the knife,” he said, and knelt down for the blade. Ah, so there's where it'd gone. Keith looked around, taking in the crowd of people they had attracted.

 

_ Idiots. Get out of here! _ he thought, but he knew they wouldn't. A public event like this was rare, and people had their phones out and wide-eyed looks dawned. They wouldn't scream and flee until they felt the real danger. Until it was after them.

 

Keith huffed.  _ Red, if you won't help with this guy, then you could help with the crowd? _ he asked, but he knew Red wouldn't copy. It wasn't a question of if he wanted to help; Red just  _ couldn't hear _ .

 

Their bond was too broken, it seemed. Maybe Allura was right about him being out in the field…

 

“Hold still; hold still,” the man sort of chanted under his breath as he approached with the knife, brandishing as if he were ready to cut. “Hold still.”

 

Keith disarmed the guy once again, even up against his super strength. The guy was no villain, nor really a criminal. There was something different up with him. Keith hadn't prepared for this. It would have been an easy fight if it hadn't been for his superpower.

 

Keith threw the knife upward, letting it lodge into the ceiling, and remain out of reach. The ceiling was quite high there in the mall, and he hoped he'd put enough strength in the throw for it to stay. Either way, he didn't have enough time to check.

 

“That's alright. It doesn't have to be clean,” the man said, and lunged for Keith. Keith, not prepared for an offensive attack, couldn't dodge quickly enough and was in the undesirable position of his arm in the man’s grip again. 

 

For a moment, just a split second, Keith's mind screamed a note of panic. 

 

“If I just pull,” the man mumbled to himself and Keith felt an experimental tug. He cried out, almost going to his knees. It was a horrible position to be in. He wasn't on the floor or against the wall; he was under this one man’s mercy, standing in the middle of a mall and restrained only by the immense pressure of a hand on his arm. Keith's other arm was free, but it was useless against the grip.

 

Another tug and Keith  _ did _ fall to his knees, free arm dropping from the man’s grip to fall to his own shoulder, which was screaming out in pain. Tears sprang to his eyes, and he could hear alarmed shouts from their audience. Keith hadn't known what to expect, but he was somewhat surprised to hear worry among them.

 

_ Huh, I didn't think Altea liked me that much. _

 

“Maybe just one really strong pull?” the man asked, and Keith was surprised again to see that he was asking  _ him _ . “Maybe that won't hurt as much. I just need your arm. I need your arm.” Before long, though, the man digressed into his absent chanting again. “Your arm, your arm, your arm…”

 

Another short tug, but considerably weaker than the others. Keith still winced, but his arm remained intact. The man nodded to himself.

 

“Yes, one strong pull,” he said and he adjusted his grip. Keith tried to pull away, hoping the brief lapse in the hold would allow it, but the man’s hand tightened even harder than before, making Keith’s back scrunch inward. He yelled. “One,” the man started to count and Keith decided whatever damage he took trying to get out was better than life without an arm. Or a life knowing he'd lost it to some guy in a shopping mall.

 

He struggled, pulling and tugging and scratching at the guy. The guy frowned, only a little troubled, and said, “Two.”

 

He didn't seem phased at the marks and bruises he got from Keith’s fight, even when he went for the eyes. The man just batted him away with his other hand, and, finally, held Keith’s extra limb down. Keith started kicking.

 

“Thr-” the man started, and Keith had visions of pain and a missing limb. It would truly be karma, wouldn't it? He was the reason Shiro had lost his own arm. This was what Keith deserved, wasn't it? For Shiro. For failing him. For failing everyone-

 

But the man’s voice cut off. Why had his voice cut off?

 

A loud roar sounded in his ears, and Keith fought against his swimming vision, focusing in on the world around him once more. There was a streak of red, the crowd was going mad, the walls were glowing like a sunset stained with fluorescent ceiling lights.

 

Red was there and he was pinning down the man.

 

And Keith's arm was still intact, though perhaps dislocated at the moment.

 

Keith couldn't help it. He breathed a huge sigh, watching Red keep the man down with a single paw, then, after rising unsteadily to his feet, he approached.

 

_ So, you heard me. _ Keith thought, and didn't care to hold back his utter relief. Red looked up, and Keith could almost  _ almost  _ see the relief there too.

 

_ Our bond is weaker still. _ Came the reply. Keith frowned. He had expected as much, but that didn't mean he liked it. 

 

They'd tried so hard, yet nothing helped their disintegrating bond. Red claimed that Keith was still the Red Paladin, and yet, there seemed nothing they could do about the effects of the serum the Galra had given him.

 

“Red!” a voice from behind him yelled, and Keith turned around. The Green Paladin and their lion were approaching. The lion went over to Red, placing a paw on the captured man as well, while Pidge walked over to Keith.

 

“Green,” Keith greeted them, and he hoped whatever expression behind that helmet wasn't  _ pissed _ .

 

“You didn't call for backup,” Pidge said, and Keith cursed his luck.

 

“I didn't have time,” he shrugged. Pidge crossed their arms.

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Yep,” Keith said, and turned away, trying to conceal the way he cradled his arm. It hurt like hell, and that shrug hadn't helped matters.

 

“What's up with your arm?” Pidge inquired. Keith internally sighed.

 

“Probably dislocated." 

 

Pidge externally sighed.

 

“Get back to the pods, idiot,” they said, and moved forward, nudging past him to go to their lions. “Green and I have got this.”

 

Keith frowned, not that they would see it. “We can't leave yet; there's still the police report,” he said, noticing the appearance of the cops to the scene.

 

“We'll cover you,” Pidge said simply, but Keith shook his head. Something wriggling in him made him uncomfortable with leaving. It was a reaction learned over the past few months.

 

“I can't keep acting above the law.”

 

Pidge looked up, considering him. Keith stayed silent, standing by his answer. Finally, their shoulders sagged, and Pidge nodded. “Alright. Just be careful with that,” they said, and nodded toward his injury. Keith thanked the sun and the sky that Pidge was understanding, that they knew. Lance or Shiro? They would have made him go back immediately.

 

By then, there were police up near the lions and the captured man. They were talking between themselves, and Pidge and Keith nodded to one another, knowing it was time for them to step up and be heroes.

 

“Hello, officers,” Keith greeted, and they looked up. One gave Keith a subtle glare before switching to talk to Pidge instead.

 

“What's the report?” he asked, and, as much as Keith wanted to punch the guy, he could tell Pidge wanted to punch the guy too, so he nudged them.

 

“You know,” Pidge said with a tight voice, obviously having been reigned in with Keith's reminder, but also not caring enough to remain civil. “Red was the one that dealt with the scene. You should ask him.”

 

The man’s lip lifted just slightly, but he didn't say anything to that. Instead, he turned to Keith, words on his lips that he never got out.

 

Because, just then, a desperate, lost voice shook from the man pinned by Green and Red.

 

“W-where am I?” he asked, and four heads turned. “Where am I? What happened?” he asked again. His voice grew more strangled, more fearful. His eyes searched as far as he could see, darting around the room, at the ceiling, and especially at the paladins and police.

 

One of the police stepped forward, the one who had not spoken yet, to kneel down next to the man.

 

“Sir,” she said, “Are you saying you do not know where you are?”

 

With wide eyes and a whimper, the man nodded, eyes shifting around again before meeting hers. The three others looked on, in confusion and disbelief.

 

“Do you remember how you got here?” she asked, and, this time, there was a shake of the head. The first cop snorted in disbelief, rolling his eyes. He turned back to Keith.

 

“Your report, then you can go. We’ll take over the situation,” he said, and, with a look at their lions, Keith highly doubted it. He didn’t say as much because, when he looked, he saw the lost face of the man again, and questions upon questions filled his brain. He shook them away.

 

Keith carefully relayed his report. Throughout, he couldn’t help glancing over at the pinned man, every so often.

 

When he left with Red afterward, scolded into finally using a pod, he couldn’t quite get his fearful face from his head.

 

-/-

 

A day off was exactly what Keith needed. No work. No hero-ing. Just a date with the couch, dozing off, and playing with his boyfriend’s hair.

 

They were in the lounge. Lance was playing a game on his DS, splayed out on his back. Keith was watching, sprawled on his stomach behind him, where he could fidget with Lance's hair as he liked.

 

It was a funny thing, to relax, after the whirlwind his life had become. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a day like this. It was thanks to Lance anyway. Keith just hoped Allura wasn’t too pissed that he had demanded a day, just the two of them. Today was usually the day they patrolled together, since neither of them had work.

 

It was already Keith’s favorite day. He didn’t mind roaming about the city if he had Lance by his side. He stopped noticing the glares civilians would shoot his way. His heart stopped sinking any time he would say something to Red, and the lion wouldn’t hear. Lance was good at distracting him, even without actively trying. Just by existing, he somehow made the world better.

 

Keith’s cheeks stung a bit at the thought, and he laid one down on the couch, relaxing into the cushions as he watched over Lance’s shoulders at his game. His fingers absently toyed with a silky brown lock.

 

It was relaxing, and he was sort of sleepy. He considered Lance, smiling softly at his profile. He was too good for Keith. Despite everything Keith had put him through, Lance was still, somehow, by his side. It was a bit daunting, Lance’s loyalty. Keith hadn’t experienced something like that a lot in his life.

 

And Keith wasn’t particularly good at repaying it either. Keith tried - he really did - but the one thing Lance had asked of him… it was  _ hard _ .

 

Trust. Keith wasn’t good at that. It was something he was still coming to comprehend. But they had agreed to trust one another, after all the lies they’d told, and the secrets they’d kept. How was Keith even supposed to begin, though?

 

He hadn’t told Lance everything about his time with the Galra, and maybe that should have been the first thing. Lance should know what he was getting himself into, right? He should know the darkest parts of Keith.

 

Or, maybe, his history. All the gritty details of an orphan boy who pushed everyone away. Tragic backstories felt cliche, but was it dishonest to withhold it? Why would Lance even want to know?

 

“Hey,” a voice suddenly startled Keith, and he dropped the lock of hair he'd been twirling in his fingers. He looked over, blinking into ocean blue eyes. “You're thinking up a storm over there,” Lance smirked, setting his DS on his stomach. His eyes asked a question.

 

Keith decided not to answer it. Instead, he cocked his head to the side and smiled at his soulmate. It wasn’t the usual teasing smirk they shared, but a softer smile of a sort. A little vulnerability on Keith’s part because he was feeling just that at the moment.

 

Lance looked at him, trying to read his face. Keith wondered if he found anything there. He wasn’t actively trying to hide, but there was always something hiding anyway. He wondered if Lance could see it.

 

Then, Lance picked back up his game. Keith thought that was the end of it until Lance snapped the device closed and sat up, the strands of hair Keith had begun playing with again trailing from his fingers as they followed him.

 

Lance shifted, digging in his pockets for something. Keith looked on in curiosity, but didn’t say anything. He propped himself up by his arms, elbows digging into the couch, watching as Lance swiped through his phone. It was weird. Watching Lance doing such basic things made Keith soft in a way his thirteen-year-old self would have flinched at. Thirteen-year-old Keith didn’t deal with vulnerability very well.

 

Maybe it was the fact that he was there, and he was allowed to watch his soulmate do these things, that made Keith want to smile so softly to himself.

 

And, again, Lance’s sudden eyes on him pulled him straight up and out of his thoughts. He blinked at the other, confused at the sudden attention, before Lance was launching to his feet.

 

“Stand up,” Lance ordered, something subtly excited in his eyes. Keith quirked a brow. Lance puffed a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Come on, Kogane. You afraid?”

 

“Afraid of what?” Keith asked reproachfully, eyes still latched onto Lance at the prospect of a challenge. He started to rise, but ended up going from laying to sitting until he knew what his soulmate was up to.

 

That was when Keith noticed the noise. The volume was minimal, but there was no doubt what it was. Music was flowing from the tiny speakers of Lance’s phone, abandoned on the couch when Lance had jumped up.

 

Taking in that and the excited glint in Lance’s eyes, it wasn’t altogether hard to piece together what they were doing.

 

“I don’t dance,” Keith said flatly, the prospect honestly a little scary, but like hell he was going to give any indication of that.

 

“Huh,” Lance said, tilting his head. “Usually people say they  _ can’t _ dance.”

 

“Well, it can’t be that hard,” Keith shrugged and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“You’ve never danced before?” Lance asked, slight incredulity to his voice. Keith looked at the wall across the room.

 

“I don’t see the point,” he said, but Lance was already protesting.

 

“Nope. Nah uh. This is not happening. No soulmate of mine can go around saying they’ve  _ never danced _ . What would people think of  _ me _ , huh?”

 

“You?” Keith asked, his turn to be incredulous.

 

“Yes!” Lance exclaimed, walking forward to start pulling on Keith’s arm. Keith reluctantly rose, though he was seriously considering cementing himself to that couch forever and a day. “It’s a soulmate’s duty to do these things, you see.”

 

“I see…” Keith replied, deadpan.

 

“Glad to hear it,” Lance replied, obviously having way too much fun with this. He was leading Keith further away from the couch.

 

“Um, Lance?” Keith asked, the further toward empty space they got. The lounge didn’t have much of it, but in the middle of the huge circular couch was a bit of empty flooring that would probably be good for dancing. Or fighting. Keith preferred the latter.

 

Lance hummed in response, and Keith stamped down a spike of frustration and anxiety. Dancing couldn’t be  _ that _ hard, right?

 

“We aren’t gonna, like,” Keith said, noting as Lance arranged their hands all on his own, “Ballroom dance, right?”

 

Lance snickered and shook his head. “Nah. I’m gonna go easy on you.” And then he pulled them closer. Keith’s hands were on Lance’s shoulder and bicep and Lance’s were on his shoulder and waist. They were so close that their noses were almost touching. 

 

Then, Lance started to slowly rock, the music a dull, tinny sound behind them. They swayed and Keith wondered if that really was all there was to it. The movies really made it look a lot more… well,  _ more _ .

 

“This is called the cheating dance,” Lance said, looking down to meet Keith’s eyes. He wasn’t much taller, but he still had Keith beat by a rough inch or two. “We’re definitely not doing real dancing,” Lance said, and chuckled under his breath. Keith’s heart caught in his throat.

 

“You’re just lying because I got the hang of it so easily,” Keith teased, but the words came with no edge to them. Instead, he sounded a little breathless.

 

“Maybe I’ll show you some real dancing one day then,” Lance said, then leaned closer, resting his temple to the side of Keith’s head. Keith breathed in deeply and realized he might have been holding his breath before. He’d attribute his light-headedness to that.

 

They continued like that for a while, swaying back and forth to the low quality music, and silently taking each other in, reveling in their closeness. Keith eventually relaxed, resting his head against Lance’s as Lance had done to him. He closed his eyes and let his senses open to everything else. In a way, it kind of  _ was _ like fighting. The pure instinct of it. Sure, he had thoughts when he was up against a foe, but they were usually a honed blur, focused on one goal.

 

Here, instinct drove his motions, but his thoughts wandered, and pleasantly so for once.

 

Mostly, he thought about Lance. The first time they’d met and their first date. The feeling of finding his soulmate, a little overwhelming and quite frankly unbelievable, but exciting all the same. All of their little dates at that burger restaurant and that time he’d revealed to Lance that he was lactose intolerant while in the midst of taking a long draw from his strawberry milkshake.

 

When they’d moved in together. He’d hung a clock in their living room and felt like he belonged somewhere, like he belonged in that apartment and by Lance’s side. He belonged making horrible chili for Lance when he was back late and ordering chinese takeout and helping Lance cook where he couldn’t completely ruin the meal. He belonged on the couch watching movies and curled up together in a blanket and on the balcony pointing out the stars.

 

He belonged with Lance. He had the universe to back up that claim, after all.

 

Keith opened his eyes and subtly looked down, hand still on Lance’s shoulder and displaying his bare arm perfectly. His soulmark’s blue jumped out at him.

 

Keith wondered if it had been the same the day Lance had seen it through the cut on his suit.

 

And, like that, a cloud descended on Keith’s mind. His thoughts adopted a bittersweet hue. Everything twisted and turned, those happy memories a thing of the past. Now all there was was distrust and hatred, blood and screams. Keith had ruined a lot of things in his life, but this had to have been the worst.

 

And, still, they pretended as if everything were alright.

 

“You’re lost in your thoughts, Kogane,” Lance’s voice came, once again, to save him from his head. Keith wondered what he would do when he didn’t have that to save him.

 

Keith froze, the idea creating an avalanche in his head. He shook it off quickly, pretending he’d never thought it. 

 

Keith was still looking up at Lance when his head had started to shake on the inside. Lance then stepped back, pulling the arm Keith had had on his shoulder into the air, almost as if he were trying to put the soulmark on display. Keith gave him a questioning look.

 

“You have to twirl under it,” he instructed, smile teasing, but eyes soft. Keith gave him a look that was less than amused.

 

“Not happening,” he said.

 

“Keeiitthh,” Lance complained, but Keith shook his head. Lance pouted his lips, but gave up, instead repositioning their arms. “Alright, but now you have to let  _ me  _ spin.”

 

Keith laughed and shook his head a bit, not in a way that refused him, of course. Refuse Lance for something so innocent and adorable and so utterly Lance? Keith didn’t think he’d ever be able to.

 

So he lifted his hand and let Lance spin as many times under it as he wanted. Eventually, they were both laughing, one of them dizzy and the other unable to hold him up because Keith was bent over laughing so hard.

 

When they eventually straightened up, they were in each other's arms again, eyes locked. Keith could have sworn he saw worlds in those irises.

 

Then, in the lowest voice possible, Lance asked him, “So what were you thinking about?”

 

“Huh?” Keith answered, mind still giddy from the laughter.

 

“Before the twirling. You were in there pretty deep by the looks of it,” Lance said and his eyes implored him for his trust. 

 

_ Trust. _ Keith didn’t know how.

 

Why did Lance want to know?

 

It wouldn’t help.

 

It would only make him sad.

 

And make promises he couldn’t keep. Shouldn’t have to keep.

 

Keith smiled, but it was hollow. He’d never been a good actor. Instead, he tilted his head into Lance’s shoulder.

 

“I don’t remember.”

 

They were both silent for a moment. Keith hated that he couldn’t do this for him. Then, Lance did what Keith wasn’t capable of.

 

He trusted him.

 

“Okay,” Lance said, and that was the end of that.

 

-/-

 

“Ah,” Lance said dreamily as he vaulted the back of the couch to land next to his short tech-friendly friend, “Young love.”

 

Pidge snorted and took a moment to look over their laptop at the two across the room. Shiro and Matt were in front of the TV, where Shiro had one hand in the air with the remote and another hand on Matt’s forehead, keeping his soulmate away. It seemed they were arguing over what to watch, though Lance could tell it was less about what to watch and more about the teasing smirks they shared.

 

“If that's young love then what does that make you and Keith? You guys bicker like it's your lives’ air.”

 

“Um, excuse,” Lance said. “It's called 'bickering like an old married couple’. We are seasoned veterans of the bickering.” 

 

Pidge smirked that evil smirk and Lance knew he must have stepped into some horrible trap. “Oh, so you're married now?”

 

That silenced Lance, and, all the while, made his face grow at least a dozen shades deeper. He sputtered a bit, but, in the end, decided only silence could protect him now. 

 

"You chose last time, Shiro!" Matt protested, still trying to get at the remote. Lance's attention drew back that way. Shiro laughed, using his height to his advantage and lifting it well out of reach.

 

" _ No _ ," Shiro laughed, and it was the happiest Lance had ever seen him. " _ You _ chose last time. It's my turn, Matt-hue."

 

Matt sunk down, crossing his arms with a pout. "You're a liar, but fine." He sat back. Shiro laughed harder, but lowered the remote.

 

"Don't be a sore sport," Shiro said, leaning into him. He slipped him the remote. "Here."

 

“It's good they found each other,” Lance suddenly said. They were still dancing around the whole relationship business, but they seemed to take the soulmate part in stride. They worked well together.

 

Pidge looked at him, then at Matt and Shiro again. A small smile came to their face. “Yeah.”

 

Lance took out his phone, hoping Keith had texted him. It was impossible these days to align their schedules, apart from that one day-off he had swung for them, but they had patrol together that evening so Lance was looking forward to it.

 

What he wasn't expecting, though, was a text clearly stating:  _ You're late. _

 

“Shit,” Lance said, looking at the time. “Shit!” he exclaimed, bolting up. Every head in the room turned, and he could see Shiro chuckle to himself.

 

“Lance, don't you have patrol now?” he asked, rather unnecessarily if you asked Lance.

 

“Got to go!” Lance shouted, and raced out. He heard laughter from all across the room. He’d get them back later for it.

 

By the time he made it to the roof he and Keith had decided to meet, he saw that Keith was already there, leaning against the building’s entrance to the top. Since his unpopularity with people of Altea, Keith had taken to staying away from the edges where he was more easily spotted.

 

“Right on time,” Lance lied, leaping from Blue and striding confidently over. Keith shook his head. If his helmet didn't cover his face, Lance knew he would have seen a smirk on his lips.

 

“You're something, McClain.” 

 

Patrol was easy. They paced the roofs and kept an eye out down below. At times, they shouted challenges at each other to help occupy the time, or rested on randoms roofs and in alleyways. It was a calm night. They hadn’t spotted anything suspicious yet when they settled in an alley next to the library and took off their helmets for a bit. It was in a deserted part of the city at night, where no one would walk by.

 

Lance took advantage of their free faces to lean in close.

 

Keith placed a gloved hand on his cheek and guided their lips together. Lance pressed in further, and Keith walked back to the wall. The adrenaline from the night was making him a little light-headed.

 

“Love you,” Keith breathed, as if it was some big secret. Lance smiled back and kissed him, murmuring the same sentiment against his lips. 

 

When Lance pulled back, Keith rested his head against the wall, and they talked for a while. It was normal things, easy things, and things they never got the chance to really talk about. They talked about their paperwork and what they had for breakfast and if they thought they’d still have enough energy to watch a movie that night. Eventually, Keith was the responsible one and said they should get back to patrolling.

 

“Do we have to?” Lance whined, though he knew the answer. They were Altea’s protectors after all.

 

“Yes, Lance,” Keith answered, pecking his lips one more time before slipping on his helmet. “We have to.”

 

Lance pretended to sulk as he put on his own helmet, but, in fact, was in a better mood than he had been in a week. Five minutes alone in a dingy alley with his soulmate, a bubble in the universe just for them, was all Lance needed.

 

They were just calling over their lions when a voice fizzed into their helmets. Allura’s voice.

 

“Blue? Red?” she asked, business-like as usual. 

 

Lance took the initiative and answered, sparing Keith the awkward conversation. “Yep?”

 

“You both are needed back at HQ.”

 

Lance paused, a look of confusion crossing his features that no one could see. “Is something up?”

 

“I'm afraid, yes,” she said. “It's probably not the best for Red to be on the streets right now.”

 

Lance shot a look to his soulmate who had gone very still. Keith said nothing, so Lance decided to finish himself. “We're on our way.”

 

“Meet in the conference room when you get back,” Allura said, then shut off the link. Lance looked over at Keith, confused and concerned.

 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he reassured, but he wasn’t sure if his voice relayed that well enough.

 

“Yeah…” Keith said, but he didn’t look too certain himself. Red walked up to him and nudged his hand. He nodded. “We should get there soon, whatever it is.”

 

Lance was afraid it was an emergency, so he readily agreed. When Keith mounted Red and took off, he was only a second after him.

 

Before that second, he couldn’t help but look around, like someone might jump out at them.

 

_ It's probably not the best for Red to be on the streets right now. _

 

Frowning, he followed after, careful to stay close to Keith.

 

-/-

 

Everyone was there when they got to the conference room. Even Hunk, who’s face projected onto one of their screens, sitting beside a girl with large earrings and worried eyes. The other screen remained vacant.

 

When Keith and Lance came in, all heads turned toward them. Shiro looked as worried as that girl on the screen, but Keith could tell he knew a lot more about what was going on. This made him uneasy. He still wasn't sure how much Shiro remembered, but if this had to do with Keith then there was plenty he could know.

 

Keith and Lance took their seats at the table and Keith quicked a glance at his soulmate. Lance looked worried too, just like all of them, but he didn't seem to understand what was happening. Keith himself didn't quite get it, but he had a few guesses.

 

“Good. Now that we're all here,” Allura said, without waiting another moment, and clicked on the screen beside Hunk’s. A news article of some sort was displayed. “This came out just an hour ago. I have no doubts others like it will go into the papers tomorrow, and plenty of other news sites as well.”

 

The title was large and hard to miss. It was what Keith saw first and his heart clenched.

 

**Family Comes Forward About Red Paladin**

 

“What is this?” Lance asked, confusion and fear and apprehension lining his voice.

 

“This,” Allura said and gestured to the screen, her eyes not leaving Keith, “Is an article about a woman who lost her husband to the Galra. Apparently, the man was a security guard to a laboratory at the edges of the city where he was killed during a robbery.”

 

“And they think Keith did it?” Lance asked, an anger in his voice that made Keith uncomfortable. Lance was defending him, but if he knew…

 

“This happened months ago, when Keith was still with them,” Allura said. “The security footage had been taken care of, so there was no evidence at the time, but, apparently, someone has come forward. A janitor who was there that night and hid.”

 

“Well that's  _ convenient _ ,” Pidge exclaimed, fist clenched on the table as they rose. “We have to refute it before it gets too big. This could easily grow out of control.”

 

“I know,” Allura said, looking away from Keith for once, but not for long. “Which is why I have called this meeting. We need to know we can refute it.” 

 

“Of course we can!” Pidge said, crossing their arms and still standing. 

 

“It's not for you to answer, Pidge,” Allura said and Keith glanced at his brother. Shiro hadn't said a thing, and he was looking at his hands. Keith looked to Lance, who was watching him, pleading with his eyes.

 

The message was clear there.  _ I believe you, Keith. Just say it. Tell them you didn't do this. _

 

But Keith couldn't. He couldn't tell them he hadn't done it because he didn't know.

 

He looked back to Allura and flinched under the force of her glare. Then, he looked behind her, past Hunk’s nervous gaze and to the article.

 

“I-” he said, and he couldn’t. He couldn’t do this. He didn’t want to say the truth, but he knew he couldn’t lie. He couldn’t lie, so the truth it was. “I don’t know.”

 

The silence that penetrated the room cut Keith to his core. He could feel the stares of every single person there, even Shiro, who had been intent on not looking at him. Because Shiro knew the things Keith had done. He knew the reason he had that arm.

 

Because, once, Keith hadn’t been able to kill and Shiro had paid for it.

 

“Explain,” Allura commanded. “Now.”

 

“I don’t know,” Keith said, more sure of his words now, but, by no means, confident in them. “I did kill for the Galra, but I don’t know about this man.”

 

“His name was Quinten Henderson,” Allura supplied and Keith shook his head.

 

“I- I don’t know,” he said and he had to look away from Allura. He had to. But that forced him to look at the others. Hunk’s broken expression. Pidge’s betrayed eyes. Shiro, crestfallen. Matt’s disappointment and Coran’s hard to read expression.

 

Keith refused to look at Lance, sitting next to him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it.

 

“You do not know the name of a man you killed,” Allura said, and the words spoke for themselves.

 

Keith could not answer. Instead, he stared at his hands, clenched to each other on the table. He expected yelling, but no one spoke. In the silence, he could see movement from the corner of his eye. Pidge stalked from the room and Matt quickly followed, off to make sure they were okay probably.

 

“I think that is all then,” Allura said. She seemed disappointed. Keith wasn't sure how one managed to disappoint someone who held no hope in you, but he'd done it. “We'll have to investigate further into this, as well as conduct damage control. Thank you, Hunk, Shay, for joining us.”

 

“Yeah,” was all Hunk could say, a weak goodbye, before Allura shut off both screens. Without another word, Allura left the room too.

 

With a note of reluctance, Coran followed after, until it was just Keith, Lance, and Shiro left. Then, Shiro stood and walked over, pressed a hand to Keith’s shoulder in support before he took his leave. Keith knew he was doing it to give him and Lance some space, but he thought to himself that it would have been better if he’d stayed. Because now it was just him and Lance. And this ugly truth in the air between them.

 

He didn’t say anything and Lance didn’t either. He could still feel his gaze on his skin, so, finally, Keith looked up, meeting his soulmate's blue eyes with all of their conflict.

 

This snapped Lance out of whatever trance he had brought himself under. He shook his head and averted his eyes, breathing out one shaky breath.

 

“I need time,” Lance said, and stood. Keith’s heart stopped and he wanted to grab him, beg him to stay, let him explain, but Lance stepped away. Keith watched with desperate, pleading eyes as he walked to the door.

 

He stopped, once, at the door, and Keith dared to hope. He tried to make his voice work, but, without looking back, Lance stepped through and left Keith in an empty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience, y'all! Apart from the life stuff, like work, school, health, and other writing stuff, like my other fics, this chapter itself took so much of my time! So much revision omg. So. Much. You've got to remember how long I've been attempting to write this fic. Going back to old writing causes me to internally combust.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who's kudos, commented, and read this, and I hope to see you next chapter!!


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